


Would you like my ice cream?

by nostalgic90s



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-17 00:05:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14821473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nostalgic90s/pseuds/nostalgic90s
Summary: Jerome looked up when he heard his name. A steady flow of tears soaked his cheeks, while trailing over a prominent bruise under his right eye. The bridge of his nose was black, indicating another bruise, and he had a piece of toilet paper sticking out of both nostrils. His breath hitched as he tried to explain why he was crying. “I-it’s my birthday, and my mom and the snake guy are beating me.”





	Would you like my ice cream?

**Author's Note:**

> As mentioned before in the Gotham Series, Jerome Valeska had a most unplesant 9th birthday. I decided to take the conversation that he had with his father, Paul Cicero, and write a background story based off it. ^^ This is myfirst fanfic and one-shot. I plan to write many more as I'm currently OBSESSED with the series. I mean who doesn't love Cameron Monaghan and David Mazouz? Please enjoy and feel free to drop a comment.

It was mid-spring in Kansas City and the weather was sweltering hot. A layer of humidity filled the area, despite the lack of rain this season. On this particular day, Haly’s Circus was setting up camp on the edge of the city. They chose a familiar area that was just outside the border of the city, safe from the cops and their vexatious jurisdiction. One particular redhead boy was hoping for the chance to get a day off on the premise it was his 9th birthday today. Upon bringing it up with his mother, Jerome received scornful insults and a sharp kick to his rear that made him stumble out of their small trailer. 

With his spirits dampened, Jerome worked as hard as ever to complete the day’s chores and wrap up early. He fed all the animals first and while the more dangerous ones, like the lion and bear, were distracted, he took to removing their feces one bucket at a time. This was relatively easy because the predators didn’t defecate as much as the larger animals. Oh how Jerome hated cleaning up the enormous piles of elephant dung…. However, there was a pep in his step. He whistled a cheerful tune and hurried with his work. The final chore was to wash all of the performer’s linen and today, it wasn’t quite as bad; no blood or garments smeared with feces today. Why, it certainly felt like his birthday. 

What is normally a ten-hour job was finished in seven, a record for Jerome Valeska. Once he hung all the wet clothing up on the lines, he wandered back to the trailer. His stomach growled hungrily but the boy was far too exhausted to think about food right now. He was in desperate need of sleep, or a short nap, and then he could venture for food. Jerome pulled the trailer door open and peered inside. 

Mother was gone. 

Sighing in relief, Jerome went inside and he went over to the tiny table area that had a booth seat on either side. He crawled underneath the table where a bundle of blankets lay, including a shabby torn up pillow. This was Jerome’s bed and he couldn’t be happier to curl up in the dirty blankets and close his eyes. It didn’t take long for him to drift off and fall asleep. 

-Two hours later-

The smell of stale beer filled his nostrils, prompting Jerome to open his eyes and listen. He could hear mother’s laughter coming from her bedroom, including a man’s voice. Instantly a sick feeling overtook his stomach. He knew nothing good ever came from his mother drinking, especially when she had a male caller around. Jerome shifted himself onto his hands and knees before quietly backing out from underneath the table. He stood up and began tiptoeing towards the door. 

“And where do yer think yer goin brat?” Said man who slurred nearly every single word. 

Before Jerome could bolt for the door, he felt a firm grip pull at the collar of his shirt that stopped him dead in his tracks. The boy gave a startled cry but a big, dark hand muffled any further sounds of help. 

Paul Cicero, the blind fortuneteller at Haly’s Circus, was tidying up his trailer for the evening. All the clients, a bunch of young’uns, always left trash in his trailer. He picked up wrappers, empty popcorn boxes, half-full cans of soda, and handfuls of loose change meant to be an insulting tip. Cicero didn’t care, money was money. He piled all the coins into an empty coffee tin and tucked it underneath his bed. Now that the evening festivities were over and the performers were retiring for the evening, Cicero thought a hot bath was in order. He collected a set of clean clothes and wrapped it up in a worn-out towel. He grabbed his cane from the tableside and slowly descended the steps from his trailer. No sooner did he take a few steps is when he heard the noise.

Somebody was crying.

Cicero craned forward to listen more closely…. He recognized the weeping voice. Feeling a sense of obligation, Cicero tapped the ground with his cane and followed the sound. He walked past a row of trailers before reaching the end, where the large circus tent started up. Cicero looked to the left; he didn’t need his vision to know that there was a young boy sitting outside a trailer weeping. “Why are you crying Jerome?” 

Jerome looked up when he heard his name. A steady flow of tears soaked his cheeks, while trailing over a prominent bruise under his right eye. The bridge of his nose was black, indicating another bruise, and he had a piece of toilet paper sticking out of both nostrils. His breath hitched as he tried to explain why he was crying. “I-it’s my birthday, and my mom and the snake guy are beating me.” 

“This world doesn’t care about you or anyone else Jerome….Better to realize that now.” Cicero’s voice was cold and threatening. 

Jerome felt a crushing weight on his chest. Those words stung and like daggers, they stabbed at his heart. The tears started up again. They continued to flow over his bruised, freckled face and he raised both hands to cover his face. An anguished groan pushed past his lips and he mumbled under his breath, something that sounded like ‘I miss Jeremiah’. 

For one, brief, moment…..Cicero felt guilt. A troublesome feeling that the blind man wanted no part of. He cleared his throat and looked over towards the tent. He could hear footsteps and he called out. “Danny! Is that you?” Cicero knew which circus hands were working this evening. 

“Yeah old man it’s me. Whatdaya want?” Danny was sixteen and one of the younger circus handlers. Like his father, the kid had a strong Irish accent and a robust build. His body was already starting to fill out into a young man; no doubt, the hard labor at the circus had something to do with it. 

“Take Jerome here to the local drug store…. Buy him some generic painkillers.” Cicero retrieved a small, coin purse.

“Oh yeah? Whatsinnit for me?” Danny’s eyes traveled to the coin purse. He licked his bottom lip in hopes of receiving favorable compensation for his effort. 

Cicero scoffed and flicked his wrist, flashing a couple of twenty-dollar bills. “Painkillers and….an ice cream cone for the lad. You can keep the rest.” 

Danny nodded and he reached out to swipe the money out of Cicero’s hand. “Deal. Come on kid.” 

Jerome was quick to jump to his feet, temporarily forgetting about the pain in his body. “Thank you Mr. C-“

Cicero hissed, “Shut up and go!” 

Jerome nodded and he followed Danny through the circus grounds. 

It took nearly an hour for both boys to trek through the city and find a local drug store. Jerome hovered around outside the store while Danny went inside to purchase a bottle of over-the-counter painkillers. 

“Here ya go kid.” Danny pushed the bottle of pills into Jerome’s hand. Then, Danny turned on his heel and began backtracking back to the circus.

“Wait! Don’t I get an ice cream? Cicero said-“Jerome was cut off by Danny’s interruption.

“CICERO SAIDDDDD!” Danny said in a mocking, whiny voice. “Jesus you sound like a baby.” Danny rolled his eyes and gave an impatient huff. “Here.” He crumpled up a 5-dollar bill and tossed it at Jerome’s feet. “Hurry the hell up.”

Jerome leaned down and picked up the bill before glancing around. He saw several food stands on the way but there was one….. “There!” Jerome saw a giant, plastic ice cream cone perched on top of a food stand. The boy took off running, an enthusiastic grin plastered across his face. He didn’t feel any pain in that moment. Just untainted, pure, excitement of a child being able to purchase something they desired terribly. Jerome got in line and within minutes, he was purchasing a cinnamon dusted waffle cone with two scoops of vanilla ice cream. Jerome’s mouth practically salivated when presented with the sweet treat. 

Jerome politely thanked the seller before moving back to the sidewalk.

Danny motioned with a head tilt for Jerome to follow. The older boy turned and began walking.

Jerome moved to catch up to Danny and once beside him, he attacked his precious waffle cone by taking a huge bite out of the bottom.

Danny rolled his eyes, “That’s a stupid way to eat ice cream. Yer gonna get it all over.” 

Jerome paid no attention to the remark. All of his focus was on devouring his birthday present. 

Danny looked up just as the crosswalk light switched to a red hand, indicating they shouldn’t walk across. He stopped and waited, but from the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of red that continued to move forward. “Jer-“ Danny reached out and grabbed Jerome by his arm. He yanked him back just moments before a truck zoomed by. 

Jerome was far too distracted to pay attention to the crosswalk light, or the heavy traffic. He enjoyed the pleasant sugar rush up until the point he felt an iron grip on his arm. Naturally, Jerome tensed up and when he looked over his shoulder, he stumbled back from Danny’s actions. Jerome dropped the ice cream cone and a sickly squishing noise followed as the truck ran it over. Jerome landed on his rear and a look of despair overtook his freckled face. “Nooo! Why did you do that?!” 

“Oh shut up, I saved yer fuckin life. Next time pay attention.” Danny snapped.

“But….but….. Can I buy another one?” Jerome asked through shaky breaths. 

“Pfft, no. Cicero said ONE ice cream cone. Now let’s go, I don’t wanna be walkin in the dark.” Danny looked up just as the crosswalk light changed to an icon of a man walking; they could cross now. Danny started crossing the street, “Let’s go.” 

Jerome remained on the cold cement; green eyes glued to the puddle of ice cream and broken waffle cone pieces. The disappointment hurt far more than the bruises that covered his body. His vision blurred as fresh, hot tears began to flow. Jerome wanted nothing more than to hug his brother and hear his voice again. “Miah…” A choked sob escaped his lips. 

“Why are you crying?” 

Jerome stiffened up; he absolutely hated it when someone snuck up behind him. He scrambled to his feet and turned around to come face-to-face with a much younger boy. Jerome reached up and wiped the tears away, “I wasn’t crying….” 

A set of blue eyes looked Jerome up and down, the dark brown curls on his head bounced ever so slightly with the head gesture. “Is it because you dropped your ice cream?”

Jerome noticed the ice cream in the boy’s right hand. He nodded once. “Yeah….” He also took saw two well-dressed adults standing behind the boy. His parents most likely. Jerome gave a defeated sigh and he turned around.

“Wait.” The younger boy stepped forward and he put his hand on Jerome’s shoulder. 

Jerome flinched away from the touch.

This startled the other boy and his hand recoiled. “I’m sorry …Do you want my ice cream? You like vanilla and I like vanilla too.” The boy offered his cone to the redhead. 

Jerome eyed the ice cream cone suspiciously and then he lifted his gaze higher. To his surprise, Jerome saw no hint of malice in the other boy’s expression. Never, in his life, did he see such deep blue eyes. It reminded him of the crystal blue lakes where they went fishing. Plenty of mystery and beauty in those still waters. The thick mop of curly hair reminded Jerome of a dog, but a dog could not be as nearly as cute as the boy in front of him.

Suddenly, Jerome felt timid about being around the rich boy and his parents. Rich was just an observation, judging by the well-tailored suit on the man and a lovely black cocktail dress on the woman. The boy had on a white dress shirt with a grey and black plaid sweater vest. The brown slacks and black leather shoes paired nicely with the outfit. Jerome knew those shoes costed more than an entire year’s worth of wages at the circus. He was hesitant to accept the offer and he averted his gaze to the side. 

“JEROME!” Danny shouted from down the street.

Jerome jumped and he looked over his shoulder to see Danny waving his arm around.

“Is that your brother?” The boy asked.

“No….I have a brother and it’s not that guy…. Are you sure you wanna give me your ice cream? You don’t have to.” Jerome looked back to the young boy.

“If it will make you happy and you won’t cry. Yes.” The boy offered up a friendly smile.

Jerome couldn’t help but return the infectious smile. Jerome probably smelled awful and his face was beat up, yet this boy was showing kindness in spite of Jerome’s revolting appearance. He reached out and took the cone from the other male’s hand and he nodded, mumbling a low ‘thank you’. He turned around and checked the crosswalk light, seeing that it was okay for him to cross, Jerome took off jogging to catch up to Danny. 

The little boy waived as Jerome disappeared amongst the sea of people. He felt two strong arms wrap around his body and lift him from the ground. He giggled and looked up at his father.

“That was a nice thing you did Bruce.” The father said.

“It certainly was. I’m so proud of you honey.” The mother leaned forward and pecked a light kiss against Bruce’s cheek.

Bruce was beaming with pride and he managed to lean over and loop his arm around his mother’s neck. He hugged both his parents tightly. 

“Do you want another ice cream sweetheart?” The mother asked.

Bruce shook his head. He wasn’t in the mood for ice cream anymore, in fact, he was aware of how tired he was. The theater performance and extravagant dinner party, including additional exploring, taxed Bruce of all his energy. He wanted to sleep. 

“Okay, let’s get back to the hotel and we’ll call it a night.” The father said. He turned and carried Bruce in one arm, while holding his wife’s hand in the other. 

Bruce drifted off to sleep before they reached their hotel. One particular image floated around in his head…. A ginger haired boy with freckles and piercing green eyes, smiling shyly at the offer of ice cream. “Jerome….” Bruce mumbled the name under his breath before slipping back into a pleasant, darkness.


End file.
